‘Wow. Almost six weeks and nothing?’ Kennedy asks, raising her voice to yell over her husband’s voice singing through the gigantic speakers beside the stage. I’ve been laying low at Ronin’s place for almost a month and a half. It’s been so quiet, I convinced him to loosen up and let me come out with Kennedy tonight for a show Shadow Phoenix is doing for charity.
Harrison’s golden curls pop up every now and then in different parts of the crowd, and I’m shocked he’s left his wife’s side long enough to actually show up tonight. The PR manager’s presence means I don’t have to deal with posting to the band’s socials, though, so it’s almost like a night off for me.
I lift my cranberry juice to my lips and take a sip of the tart liquid. Shit, this could really use a hit of vodka. As it is, I’m drinking it out of a wine glass so as not to raise suspicion. As far as I know, I’m not pregnant yet. Last month was a bust, but that hasn’t stopped Ronin and me from having all kinds of fun trying to make it happen now. So until I know for sure, I’m on an alcohol hiatus.
Growing up how I did, I want no part of being judged for my life choices, so that’s why I’m doing the whole fake-out thing. So do I really care if people think I’m crazy for trying to have a baby with a guy who hasn’t been my boyfriend very long, and in the middle of a situation dealing with a stalker and maybe killer out there who may or may not have given up on hunting me? Nah, not really.
I mean, women get knocked up from a one-night stand all the time and make that shit work. We’ve at least known each other for a while.
What I’m doing right now with Ronin, the choices I’m making feel more right than anything else has in a long time. It’s not like there’s ever going to be this perfect moment to make these huge decisions and life changes. Besides, I feel totally in control of what’s going on between us, and to me, that’s the most important part.
‘Not a damn thing. No disgusting jacking off videos or slashed-up mattresses. Not even a disturbing gift left at my door. My own personal violator has been radio silent for weeks.’
Kennedy eyes my glass. ‘What the hell are you drinking?’
Ah, fuck her perceptiveness.
‘Busted,’ I mutter, and she raises her eyebrow.
‘Spill.’
I sigh and sit back with the stem of my glass held between my fingers, desperately wishing the glass held something alcoholic—anything alcoholic. And strong. Yeah, strong enough to steel my nerves for this conversation. So far, I haven’t told anyone about what Ronin and I are up to. Not my family or my closest friends. We’ve been living in a blissful bubble of our own making for the last couple of months, and honestly, it’s been sort of magical.
It’s amazing how much other people’s opinions can affect me if I let them. I never realized that about myself until this recent situation. Sitting here across from Kennedy about to let her in makes me wonder if I should tell other people, too. Now that Damon and I are working through our issues, maybe it’s time to extend the olive branch a little bit more and open up to him.
If anyone knows what I’m going through with my relationship and how our parents may or may not react to everything, it’s going to be him. Shoving that to the back burner for now, I refocus on Kennedy. She’s been watching me expectantly while I work through my inner monologue, and now she looks more amused than anything as she sips her drink.
The only question now is where to begin. ‘I might be pregnant.’ There we go. Blunt honesty’s always a great opener, right?
She chokes on her drink, spitting some of it back into her glass and patting herself on the chest. When she catches her breath, she looks at me with her bright blue eyes wide. ‘What? How? Who?’
Laughing, I lean forward. ‘I think you know how, and as for who…’ my eyes flick over to where Ro is leaning against the wall scowling at the entire room all at once. My chest heats, and there’s just something about knowing he’s got my back that I’m living for right now.
Maybe some women would feel stifled having their boyfriend acting as their shadow wherever they went, but not me. I can respect and appreciate the amount of danger I’m living in right now, even if things are quiet. I’ve peeked behind the curtain and seen a glimpse of the nightmares that live there. If I can avoid encountering them again, I’m going to be a good girl and do whatever Ronin tells me.
My thighs squeeze together at the memory of what happened the last time Ronin rewarded me for being his good girl, and I’ve never had more incentive to behave in my entire life. His darkened gaze meets mine from across the room, and the heat level goes up by a thousand degrees. It’s like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he’s remembering the same thing.
‘Oh, shit. So you’re living your best life with every single bodyguard fantasy you’ve ever had, right?’ Kennedy laughs and then tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. ‘This one time, Zen dressed up in a suit and-‘
Lifting my hand, I cut her off. ‘You know I’m always down to hear about your sexcapades with Zen, but can you do me a favor and not say anything yet? At least not until there’s something to tell. Ronin and I are figuring things out, but we’re not really doing this stuff in a conventional way. I don’t need every guy in Shadow Phoenix threatening to kill him or whatever if he steals my virtue.’
Kennedy and I both crack up, but she also knows I’m right. That’s exactly how it would go down if they got word Ronin and I were doing whatever it is we’re doing.
‘How’s this going to work anyway?’ Kennedy asks, digging into the nachos the waiter set on the table before he could even pull his hand away. ‘Does it really not bother you that he’s constantly around? Following you everywhere? Is he living with you? Are you getting married?’
‘Girl, please. Would it bother you if Zen were always there for any little whim you might have? To make you feel safe everywhere you go? I haven’t had to hold my keys between my knuckles in months. I don’t have to be on constant alert with my head on a swivel whenever I walk down the sidewalk. I can wear whatever I want without wondering if I’m going to have some creep on the street yell disgusting shit at me or try to hit on me. As much as it might make someone else feel like they’ve got no space, it actually makes me feel like I have more freedom than I ever have before. Sure, there’s something to be said for being independent, and I can still do anything and everything I want to do, just with less hassle. Oh, and the orgasms.’ I groan. ‘They’re on-demand and as often as I want. The man is an artist with his tongue, and his dick is just…’
Kennedy watches me with rapt attention, and I laugh. ‘There aren’t words. As for the rest, though, ugh, I don’t know. It’s sort of a mess, but it works for us. I convinced him to move in with me when we were in Bali, so yeah, we’re living together. In terms of marriage, well, we haven’t really talked about it, and I’m mostly okay with that for now.’
‘It’s important to you, though. Remember your mission when all of this started? Forget the crush on the bodyguard and move on with husband and baby daddy material,’ she reminds me before crunching into a chip.
‘That was the plan until Ronin decided he wants to be said baby daddy. I could have two out of three—Ronin and the baby. If the marriage part never happens, well…’ Kennedy eyes me, and I roll my eyes. ‘Fine, it’ll be a disappointment. I’m a planner, and I swear if I never get to wear a giant poofy princess dress with a veil longer than Princess Di’s, there will be a part of me that shrivels up and dies inside like that disgusting piece of Voldemort at the end of the last Harry Potter movie.’
She wrinkles her nose. ‘Jesus.’
I shrug. ‘It’s true, though.’ There’s a Janet Jackson gif out there that fits my mood perfectly, and fuck, I wish we could have gif conversations in real life like we can over text. It would make expressing myself so much easier.
‘And a poofy princess dress?’ Kennedy looks me over. ‘I don’t see it. You don’t strike me as the perfect sweet princess type.’
I lift my eyebrow and grab a chip covered in cheese and meat goodness, stopping it halfway to my mouth so I can ask her, ‘Okay, Christian Siriano. What kind of dress do you see me in?’
Kennedy doesn’t even hesitate. ‘Something sultry and form-fitting. Maybe satin or silk that drapes and hugs your curves. A dress that will make Ronin want to run halfway up the aisle and tear it off of you in front of every single one of your family and friends, audience be damned.’
Okay, so her version of events sounds hot as fuck. Now I’m going to have to rethink the whole imaginary wedding scenario I’ve pictured my entire life because I want the one she just laid out for me so much more. To make Ronin lose control in front of everyone would be the best possible outcome I could think of, and so much more fun than a boring wedding.
‘I’m impressed, babe. Somehow you’ve managed to come out of your shell and outdo me as the dirty one. Should I send Zen a muffin basket and thank him for unlocking your potential?’ I joke, lifting my glass in a mock toast.
‘No need to be a twatwaffle about it,’ she says, tossing a chip without anything on it at me, and I duck out of the way at the last second.
‘Fine, but one thing is for damn sure,’ I tell her, letting my eyes wander back to the hulking mass of muscles and danger that’s my boyfriend. I’ve got it so bad for him that it would be sort of pathetic if I knew he didn’t want me just as much. In fact, every time I give in and let my gaze drift his way, his eyes are locked on me.
And yes, it’s as scorching as it sounds.
‘What’s that?’
‘I need to rethink what my perfect wedding looks like because if the day ever comes, I’ve got a new goal in mind—do everything in my power to make Ronin lose every ounce of his tightly held control and let loose the wild beast underneath.’ A shiver races down my spine at the thought of how wild he might be capable of getting.
Kennedy’s wicked grin matches my own, and this time she does hold up her glass for us to clink them together. ‘Knowing you, he won’t even stand a chance.’
Our laughter almost sounds like a cackle, and that only makes me laugh harder, like some evil mastermind with a plan to take down my enemy, only it’s not my enemy I want to take down. It’s the man I plan to make mine in every sense of the word and seeing his control slip is really only the icing on the cake.
‘You know I don’t want to go. I’d cancel if I could,’ Ronin says, looking way more distressed than he probably should at the prospect of leaving. Satisfaction thrums through me at the idea that he hates leaving me as much as I hate it when he’s gone. Seeing him get as attached as I am means we’re on equal footing, and I like to think in less danger of hurting each other by running away scared.
Or I could be delusional, but for now, I’m going with self-proclaimed relationship genius.
It totally fits my aesthetic.
Anyway, Ro’s got this big case he has to go testify for back up in Seattle. If he doesn’t go, the guy who murdered three women walks for sure since Ronin actually witnessed one of the murders, and he’s the only one who did. The trial wasn’t supposed to happen for another month, but it got pushed up.
Personally, I don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, of course, I don’t want Ronin to go, but I can deal by myself for a couple of days. ‘I know, and it probably makes me sound pathetic, but I never want you to leave.’
‘Not pathetic. Perfect,’ he corrects, circling me in his arms and kissing me on the tip of my nose.
I sigh. ‘My asshole stalker hasn’t done anything in weeks. I still think maybe he lost interest because you guys made it too hard to get to me. Indy and Asher will be here, and the only thing I’ve got on my schedule for the next two days is dinner with Damon. I’ll be fine.’
Ronin’s testimony at this trial has weighed on him for days, and I know he’s been sleeping like shit. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and he’s carrying around this tension in his body that even a night full of blow jobs couldn’t fix.
Trust me, I tried. I’ve got the sore jaw to prove it.
‘I’ll only be a two-hour flight away. If anything happens, call me. I don’t care if I’m on the stand. I’ll leave the second you need me.’
I lean my forehead into his chest and breathe him in, gripping his shirt in my hand. I don’t want to let go, but I have to. I can’t be so selfish as to allow a known murderer to walk free when Ronin could do something about it. Especially knowing the guy would hurt more women the second he got the chance.
‘I know, but I’ll be fine,’ I repeat, not sure if it’s more for him or me. At this point, we both need the reassurance, I think.
He kisses me like he never wants to stop, tilting me back and tasting every bit of my mouth like he wants to permanently stamp my flavor on his tongue before stepping back and letting me go.
We don’t say anything else, but he gives me one last long, lingering look before stepping through the front door. I sag against the wall, hating that I’ve gotten so attached to having him around. I need to do something, get out and feel like my old self again for a little while.
‘Indy!’ I yell, and I laugh as I hear something crash and then his heavy footsteps thundering into the room. His hand’s on his gun, and his eyes are wild. Shit, I probably shouldn’t have yelled so loud.
‘What’s wrong?’ His usual playfulness has disappeared as it always does when there might be a threat, but when he sees me laughing my ass off at his expense, his gruffness melts away, and his grin stretches to match mine. ‘Ha, you got me. Now, what’s up?’
‘I need to get out before dinner with Damon tonight. Want to go shopping?’
‘Shit, yes. Let’s get the fuck out of this apartment. I’ll go grab Asher. He’s going to be fucking irate.’ But, for some reason, Indy looks excited at that prospect, and I can’t blame him. Getting Asher riled up is easy—and fun.
A few hours later, it is nearing time for me to meet my brother and my arms ache from hauling around everything I bought, but for the first time in forever, I feel normal. There’s no feeling of being watched, no hair on the back of my neck standing up, no chills down my spine. Nothing.
I can’t help but wonder if—and hope—my stalker has given up and moved on to a new target.
Guilt smacks me right across the face because if he’s moved on from me, that means someone else is in danger—someone who may not have the means to protect herself the way I can, and suddenly my good mood at the prospect of moving on from this shit show vanishes. I don’t want my stalker coming after me, but I don’t want him going after anyone else, either.
Mostly, I just want him caught, tortured, and paying for his sins.
If he’s done with me, it makes it harder for the guys to track him down, and with that knowledge, I find myself in a strange place of hoping he does something else and also hoping he doesn’t.
Maybe he’s died of natural causes? There, that feels better.
Except there’s a bigger part of me who wants him to suffer. Suffer for everything he’s done. Suffer for Ronin’s pain. Suffer for the families he stole loved ones from.
So, obviously, my feelings are complex, but at the height of them all, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt, and I want Ronin to get his vengeance. However that has to happen, I’m ready for this to be over.
Somehow, I don’t think my attacker cares very much about what I want.
The nights Ronin gets pulled away for other Hollywood Guardians jobs or has to go into the office to update Connor about what’s happening here, I miss him. It’s bizarre because I never thought I’d be one of those girls. I’ve never needed someone else, always been perfectly happy to live in my own apartment, decorated how I want it to be, and free to do whatever I want, whenever I want.
But there’s been a shift. I can feel it in the ache in my chest when Ronin isn’t here. It might even be an unhealthy attachment, some sort of codependency, but I’m not worried about it. I know I can be alone, but I don’t think I want to be anymore.
‘What are we watching, Red?’ Indy asks, plopping down on the couch beside me. His arms are loaded down with snacks, and he drops them onto the coffee table. Whenever Ronin’s out, Indy’s become my movie buddy. This is our new routine, and I kinda love it. He’s like my favorite girlfriend, except he has a penis and a male perspective if I ever need or want advice.
Sometimes he even gives his opinion without me asking, and it’s times like that—even if I don’t want to admit it—that I usually need to hear it most.
‘Lost Boys or Karate Kid,’ I gesture at the screen, giving him the final choice.
‘Eighties tonight? Love it. Daniel-san is going to have to wait because the grandpa in Lost Boys is my hero. That guy is a fucking legend. Cue it up.’
Laughing, I start the movie and then look over his snack choices. Nothing seems particularly appealing until he pulls a package out of his pocket. He’s got so much junk food spread out in front of us, I’m not sure how he managed to carry it all in one trip.
‘Are those gummy worms?’ I ask, leaning forward to snag the bag he just tossed on the table.
‘Hell, yes, and not the ones with that sour crap all over them. These are the real deal.’
I tear into the bag, and Indy reaches in and plucks one out for himself. I snatch the bag away before he can take more, fully prepared to bite his hand if he tries. These are mine, and he’s going to have to fight me for them if he wants them. My mouth is watering when I finally bite the head off of a green one. The burst of lime sweetness on my tongue is everything I’ve ever wanted until I chew some more, and it feels like something’s missing.
Frowning, I forget about the movie for a minute and study the offerings before me. I lean forward and shove away a bag of tortilla chips to find a jar of queso underneath. It’s the grocery store shit, the artificial and processed trash that’s way more orange than it probably should be, but something about it keeps you coming back for more.
Truthfully, I think that something is typically called alcohol or weed—you know, those nights where you go out and get drunk or smoke a joint and have the munchies? This is the perfect fake cheese for those situations.
Indy is fully invested in the movie, throwing a handful of popcorn at the screen when the mom asks for a job at the video store, but I’m focused on opening the damn jar. When the lid finally pops off, Indy notices and tosses me the chips, which I lift with my foot and kick away. ‘Keep your fucking chips on your side.’
He raises his eyebrow and laughs. ‘What the hell are you planning to eat your queso with if you don’t want chips?’ Indy surveys the collection of snacks and then grabs a bag of pretzels and holds them up. I shake my head, and he grins. ‘Challenge accepted.’
Then he really starts to dig, holding up everything from cookies to the bowl of popcorn propped between his legs.
‘Actually, I think I’ll try this.’ I snag a gummy worm—strawberry this time—out of the package and dunk it into the jar of cheese until the tips of my fingers touch the room-temperature surface. If I thought my mouth was watering before, now it’s a damn fountain as I hungrily eye the concoction I made. Indy’s watching me with an expression filled with more horror than he had when he was paying attention to the movie.
‘You’re not going to actually eat that shit, are you?’ He looks a little green, but I don’t know what the problem is. I bet it’ll taste amazing, and I’m proven right when I tilt my head back and drop the entire cheese-covered worm into my mouth, letting the salty-sweet combination paint my tongue in a kaleidoscope of flavor. It’s creamy and kind of spicy, too.
I moan and hurriedly reach in for another worm. Now that my snacks are sorted out, I’m happy to pay attention to the movie again, so I lean against the cushions and pull a throw blanket over my lap, careful to lift my snacks out of the way. Indy scoots closer and takes the other half of the blanket, so our shoulders are touching.
‘You know that’s disgusting, right?’ He says, nodding toward my snacks, but I grumble and tell him to fuck off. It’s not my fault he has shitty taste in sustenance, and I tell him as much.
Later, when the movie’s over, and I’ve fallen asleep with my head leaning against Indy’s shoulder, I wake up with cheese spilled in my lap, and I can’t regret a single thing.
